Evil Angel
by Frankie Broflovski
Summary: Smile! No one cares how you feel...or so you think. More people care about you than they they let on. Follow the goths, namely Dylan and Evan as they deal with love and heartbreak. Character Death. Summary sucks... Rated T because it's South Park


**A/N: Hey guys! This is my first story...so yeah...Read, Review, whatever. I'll update either way. But I'd appreciate feedback. Flames are welcome. I don't quite know why, but the whole story is posted as a one shot. hey, special shout out to SatoriKatana ( .net/u/2966488/ ) she's the only person who reviewed. Merry Christmas or w/e. You can HAVE this story if you want it. I do want credit for Evan and Dylan's poems though. I actually hold the copywrites to those. I don't own South Park, Evil Angel, Breaking Benjamin, Evanescense, My Immortal, or that other song and band that I mentioned here. I do however own Evan's Poem in Chapter 4, and hold the rights to Dylan's poem. Thanks for reading!**

**-Franike out...**

Chapter 1

"it's not my fault your son is a fucking faggot!" Evan was sitting on his bed smoking. It was normal for his parents to fight like this. They used to try to hide it, but now, they just let it go. They were fighting over him.

Evan scribbled something down in his poetry book and took a long drag of his cigarette. Tonight he'd break out the vodka under his bed. He scribbled out another line, not reading over his work. He never did. Once something was written, it was done.

Suddenly his door burst open. His parents were standing in his doorway. He exhaled his smoke in their general direction.

"The Hell do you conformists want?"

His father snatched his cigarette from his lips and pressed it into his arm.

"You fucking faggot. Don't speak to us. We don't communicate with your type, you cocksucker."

Evan wanted to cry out in pain, but he didn't. He knew what was about to happen. Bruce (his father) would beat the living shit out of him. Then his mother would laugh and they'd leave. It was the same everytime they saw Dylan.

Bruce proceeded to punch Evan in the face and slam his head against the grey wall.

"Think you can bring your little boy toy in my house buttfucker." Bruce's words were almost incoherent in Evan's semi-conscious state. Bruce then picked up Evan's vodka bottle and smashed it over his head, pouring the burning liquid over the mangled boy.

"You have two hours to get the fuck out asslicker, before I finish you off".

Evan's parents left, his mother giggling like a school girl. Evan couldn't bring himself to move, but he didn't want to try Bruce's patience. He forced himself up and into his bathroom. His reflection was a mangled contraption of blacks, blues, purples, and blood red. His black curls were stained with blood from a cut somewhere on his head.

He rinsed off his face, and put on fresh make up, not managing to conceal his wounds. He proceeded to limp around his room, gathering his few worldly possessions and favorite clothes. Everything was shoved into a messenger style bag that he slung over his shoulder. According to the digital clock on his nightstand, he had only minutes before Bruce came up here to finish him off. Chapter 2 Now that he though about it, all of this could have been avoided if it weren't for Raven. If stupid Raven/Marsh hadn't tried to come back and get Dylan, Evan wouldn't have knocked him sensless and left him for dead. He wouldn't have won Dylan's heart. . But as he reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone to text Dylan, he knew he couldn't blame anyone. Deep down he knew he had always wanted the smaller boy for his own. He'd always thought Dylan was beautiful. Perfect. Even the pockmarks on his pale face and his monotone, murmured valley accent were perfect. The way he flipped his red and black hair from his eyes...god he sounded like a little conformist teenaged girl, but he couldn't help it. Dylan was perfect. Worthy of worship. Ash, meet me in the ally. -Shadow He sent the text off to his boyfriend and proceeded to trudge his way to said ally. Consolsed by thoughts of his angel. Chapter 3 It's cold and he's out late, alone in the alley,basking in the darkness. God how he wanted a smoke. Or some coffee. Black. He notices a figure approaching him, hands in pockets. The figure flips his red hair out of his eyes and lights a cigarette. In the light from the zippo, he can tell it's Dylan, Ash. "Share the hate man."Ash handed the taller goth a cigarette and his lighter, taking a drag of his own. "Fucking conformist bastards kicked me out." Ash looks over at him questioningly "Something about won't have my type in their house and me always being a disgrace. Called me a faggot." "'rietta can prolly put you up for a while. Until you can get back on your feet..." Evan shot a glare at him. Henrietta already did more than enough for them. "...or you can crash with me..." Evan smiled to himself. Outwardly, he showed indifferrence. "Whatever" he put his cigarette out and stood up. They began to walk, content with the silence between them. "You wanna go to Denny's? Piss off the waitress and get coffee?" this time Evan grins outwardly. "yeah" There was nothing Evan wanted to do more than drink coffee with his boyfriend and piss of some conformist bitch. Chapter 4 They walked in and sat at their usual booth. It was just the two of them, which was unusual for the waitresses, but angered them none the less. Their usual waitress walked up and gave them their usual $6 worth of coffee. Evan took a swing of his coffee. When he looked up again, Dylan was staring at him wide eyed. Evan got up and slid next to him. Dylan continued to stare. Evan took another swig of his coffee. "Whats the matter, beautiful?" This caused Dylan to blush and stutter, "Yo-your face." Evan chuckled. "Ouch. Way to blacken my soul even more" Dylan shook his head. "What happened?". The dim lighting cast eerie shadows across Evan's battered face. "What are you talking about, babe?" Dylan pulled out his black covergirl compact mirror and shoved it in Evan's face. "Oh,"Evan closed the mirror and set it on the table, "look, it's nothing. Don't worry about it". Dylan wasn't convinced. "He did this to you, didn't he? That fucking conformist bastard." Evan raised his voice slightly, " Look, it's just some scraches. Don't worry about it." They finish their coffee in silence. Evan is the first to break the silence. "Look, I just don't want you to get involved. Bruce is a bad guy. He has no quams about killing someone. Especially you."Dylan just nodded, staring down at the table. "What should we do now?" "You wanna go to Henrietta's?" Dylan, although mildly suprized at this suggestion obliges. "Should we get Shift?" The two have begun to walk through the fresh snow towards Henrietta's house. God Evan hated the snow. It's just so white and pure and happy. The way it crunched under your feet...to think of it, he hates this whole damn hick town. The way it always smelt like snow and everyone was always so happy and going on their little adventures to save the world, always learning something at the end of the day... Evan spat his disgust into the road, hoping that by chance it would expand and freeze, turn into black ice and some car would slip and destroy the town like that metrosexual pride parade had. Or at least kill that bastard Kenny McCornmick. Damn immortal kid, got to experience death when he couldn't. Got to leave this fucking hell on earth while Evan and his angel were stuck here. Evan glanced over at Dylan. He was smoking a feminine cigarette. The way his perfectly lip-sticked lips were slightly parted made Evan want to pin him to the wall. Dylan was an angel, albeit, an evil angel...those lips were angel lips, those striking blue eyes, angel eyes. Dylan looked over at Evan. He was humming something and staring at him. "Dude, you okay?" Evan shook his head. "Huh? Yeah, why?" "You were staring...and humming" Had he been humming? Thinking back, Evan realized he'd been humming "Evil Angel". What a perfect song. " Oh. My bad."The two continue their walk in near silence, each sneaking glances at the other at odd interavals. About the time they reached the suburban area of South Park, Dylan sent a message to Henrietta. Moments later, she responded telling him that Shift was already there and they knew how to get in. He passed this news on to Evan. "Man, does he live there or something. It's like...one in the morning. " he looked at his pocket watch for emphasis. It had been a gift from Shift for his 16 birthday. He'd always wanted one. Dylan responded to his comment, "Dude, he has no choice, that or be molested and abused at home. And if you think about it, we all have a second home at 'rietta's". Evan took a drag of his cigarette. He hated the words fag and queer and any variation of them, but even he had to say that Shift's dad was a sick faggot. His mom was easy and his dad was gay and perverted. He had once had a boyfriend over and the two of them made Shift blow them and such. It was disgusting. Although he was the youngest, they all had to admit that Shift was the most hardcore of the four of them. No kid could deal with that and act like it never happened. The two boys approached Henrietta's house and welcomed themselves in. As they made their way up to Henrietta's room, they couldn't help but notice how welcoming and friendly the house was, even in the dead of night. It had a color scheme of blues and blacks and Greys. But not the same kinds that they wore. They were happier. Potted plants adorned the living room. The stairs were lined with decorative candles, spiraling up, seeming to light the way to the crystal chandellier that hung at the top of the steps, centered above the dining room. It had to be the nicest house in town, besides Token's rich ass family. The boys stepped into Henrietta's darker, more mellow room. The youngest boy was asleep on Henrietta's bed. She was sitting on another reading. "What are you two doing out at two in the morning?"She didn't look up from her large book as she spoke. "I'd understand if we'd been at the cemetary, but it's just you two." she finally lifted her eyes. They settled on Evans face. She didn't say anything though. He and Dylan sat in their regular spots on one of the red rugs on the floor, Dylan curled up to the larger boy. Both pulled out their poetry books and began to write. Dylan much slower than Evan. Henrietta pulled out her own notebook and flipped through the pages. She began to read; I'm so tired of being here Supressed by all my childish fears And if you have to leave I wish that you would just leave Because your prescense still lingers here And it won't leve me alone. These wounds won't seem to heal This pain is just too real There's just too much thy time cannot erase She closed her book and looked at Evan. This is for the emos This is for the goths Wearing dark colors,and black nails. This is your way of expression and it tells; Of troubled childhoods and broken hearts, Uncaring homes and paraphernaliac parts, Escaping any way possible, hardening your hearts Raise your voice, let them pierce like darts Make your point, stand high and proud, This is for you, you're one in a crowd He too closed his book and took a drag of his cigarette. "Doesnt really seem your style. Nice though."Henrietta gently inhaled through her cigarette holder. All eyes were on Dylan. He shook his head and closed his book. "Not tonight." "C'mon Ash, read one and then I'll dye your hair." he did need his hair done. It was pink for fucks sake. I'd always preserved certain moments, Certain feelings, From the sweeping microscope if my pen. Who needs childish words, After all, To hold the moment still and pin it on display; Smushing the inexpressible into a finite object, When I could close my eyes And hold your hand In a never-ending carousel... He couldn't do it. He closed his book and stood. "Lets go.". Henrietta followed Chapter 5 "It's Evan, isn't it?" Her question caused Dylan to jerk his head up, giving it a not too friendly introduction to . "Would you drop it?". His voice was as loud as it ever got, which was still about normal volume. Henrietta continued. "He feels the same way," she began. "Just tell him.". Dylan began to protest, but Henrietta dismissed herself. "Rinse." As Dylan rinsed his hair in Henrietta's shower, he thought. Could she be right? Could Evan feel the same way? Sure they're together, like a couple, but this was love that Dylan was feeling. Every time he caught Evan looking at him, his stomach fluttered. Goths didn't feel love. Love was conformist. "Well then I guess I'm a conformist." Dylan thought aloud. What harm could come of him telling them his feelings. In a way that's what their poetry readings were for. Dylan resolved to tell Evan his feelings when he returned to the room. Chapter 6 Evan was sitting in his same place on the rug, trying to think. How could he tell Dylan how he felt. He just knew the poem was about him, but what if he was wrong? What if Dylan laughed and called him a conformist girl? Sure they were boyfriends, but they were still goth. Henrietta told him to tell Dylan, but what if Dylan turned him down. Evan didn't think his tortured soul could take it. When Dylan walked in, skin still damp from dying his hair, Evan had to look away. He was beautiful. Even moreso the way the candle light was reflecting off of his wet skin. Intoxicating. Shift was awake now. He and Henrietta were drinking coffee on her bed when Dylan walked in. He looked first at Evan who looked away. Dylan then noticed that his poetry book lay still open on the floor next to Evan. He looked at all of the kids in the room, picked up his poetry book, and ran. He ran home and up the stairs, locking himself in his room. His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Evan. Dylan ignored it. If they wanted to be backstabbing sonuvabitches, then let them. Dylan didn't need any of them. He recieved a text from Shift, then a call from Henrietta. He threw his phone battery against the wall and sat on the floor. Something glinted at him from underneath the dresser. He pulled it out. An old wooden tackle box had old papers and poems that Dylan had written. In the bottom were some pictures of all of them through the years. One of the pictures had his writing on the back, lyrics to a song long forgotten; Need more friends with wings, All the angels I know put concrete in my veins I'd always walk home alone, So I became lifeless just like my telephone There's nothing to lose When no one knows your name There's nothing to gain But the days don't seem to change Never played truth or dare, I'd have to check my mirror to see if I'm still here My parents had no clue, That I ate all my lunches alone in the bathroom There's nothing to lose When no one knows your name There's nothing to gain But the days don't seem to change There's nothing to lose My notebook will explain There's nothing to gain And I can't fight the pain Teacher said it's just a phase, When I grow up, my children will probably do the same Kids just love to tease, Who'd know it'd put me underground at 17 There's nothing to lose When no one knows your name There's nothing to gain But the days don't seem to change There's nothing to lose My notebook will explain There's nothing to gain And I just died today Dylan felt himself shaking. Nothing had changed. He was still a nobody. Even amongst his so called friends and boyfriend. The thought of Evan further provoked Dylan's rage. He picked up an old fashioned shaving knife off his shelf and put the blade to his wrist. It was 4:30 in the morning. His mother would be by his room in half an hour to wake him up. But this time she wouldn't find her son in his bed. She wouldn't be able to wake him from his slumber this time. Dylan smiled to himself and pushed the blade into his flesh, seeing the blood begin to flow. "It won't be long now and it'll all be over," he told himself. Everything began to get darker. Dylan vaugely noticed his door opening. Standing there, seeming to produce an aura, was Evan. Evan burst into Dylan's room to find him seated on the floor in a puddle of his own blood, a sick smile plastered on his face. "Dylan!". Evan rushed to the smaller boy's side, taking him in his arms. "Get off me Evan." Dylan tried to push away, but his strength was fading. "Dylan, hold on I'm going to get you to the hospital." "No..". Dylan was trying his hardest to fight. "Dylan, this isn't what you want." "You're one to tell me what I want. You get beat half to death by your own father. I'm going to die with my dignity. I lost the one thing I loved, I have nothing left to live for." "Thats not true,". Evan now had Dylan's head cradled in his arms like a small child. "You have me. You have to live for me." Dylan scoffed,"Why would I do that? I don't matter to you." "I love you,". Dylan was quiet as realization struck him. He loved him. Evan loved him. Evan futhured Dylan's joy by pressing his lips against his. "I love you Dylan Thorne" Evan pressed his lips to Dylan's again. By now Dylan's parents were in the doorway, his mother in hysterics. Her husband with phone in hand, having called the paramedics. Dylan could feel everything fading. What had he done? This was a mistake! He couldn't die, he was in love! He opened his mouth. If he had to go, then he at least wanted Evan to know how he felt. "Evan..". His voice trailed off and everything went black Chapter 7 Evan was standing at Dylan's bedside, holding his cold hand. "Please, beautiful, please wake up. Whatever you want, I'll do it, just please, wake up." his voice was no more than a whisper. A nurse who had been monitoring Dylan heard, and shook her head. "What's he to you, if you don't mind my asking?" Evan looked up, having forgotten she was there. "My...boyfriend." he remembered the ring that Dylan had given him. "I'm terribly sorry." the nurse was genuinely sorry. It had to be torture for Evan to see this. Worse yet, to be the one to find his boyfriend. "Yeah, me too." Monitors began beeping. The nurse jumped up. "Doctor! Doctor!" Evan squeezed Dylan's hand. "Its okay baby, it's okay. I'm here." Everything went quiet again except for the heart monitor. The doctor came in and examined the situation, then, addressing Evan, said; "I'm sorry son, but we're going to have to ask you to leave. We have to run a few tests. Maybe come back in the morning." Evan shot a death glare at the doctor but bid farewell to Dylan anyway. "'Bye Dyl, I'll see you later, when you wake up, I'll be here. Promise. I love you baby.". Evan looked at the nurse and nodded. She smiled sadly. Then he left. Realizing that he had nowhere to go, Evan walked over to Tweaks Coffee. Standing behind the counter were Tweek and Craig. Craig had taken the job so he could be with his twitchy blonde. Tweek was wiping the counter. He had calmed down exponentially since 4th grade. Craig took his eyes off of the diligently working Tweek to watch the approaching goth. "What do you want, douche?". Craig asked through a bite of carrot cake muffin. "Gah, Craig, you'll scare off the customers!" Tweek scolded him. Then, turning to Evan, "Welcome to Tweak Bro's, may I help you? Oh, hi Evan. What can I get you?" Evan could think of a million and one things to say to that, but instead just said, "Hey, Vente, black." Tweek scurried off into the kitchen to prepare the goth's bitter beverage. Craig took another bite of his muffin and spoke, "How's your, uh...friend?Dylan?". He was trying to be nice, make small talk. He really did want to know how the smaller goth was doing, but he wasn't sure how to ask. "I don't know. He's still out. All his monitors went crazy, then they kicked me out." Evan looked old and tired and like he needed someone to talk to, Craig noticed as Tweek handed him his coffee and accepted his money. "Thanks.". He started to walk out. "Hey," Craig called after him. Evan turned around. Why had he called after him anyway? Craig stuttered something out. "I hope he wakes up." "Thanks, so do I.". Then he left. Chapter 8 Evan didn't know exactly why he went to Dylan's house. It wasn't like he had anyone there to see. Dylan's parents had welcomed him into their home and their family, saying anyone who cared that much about their son, was more than welcome. Presently, Evan was sitting on the floor in Dylan's bedroom. There were faded bloodstains under him.(Mrs. Thorne had scrubbed the floor for three of the four days her son had been in a coma.). This was the first time Evan had entered the room, mark, the house, since the morning of the incident. He noticed something shiny under the dresser and pulled it out. It was an old tackle box with some old papers and poems that Dylan had written. At the very bottom, were pictures of all of them through the years. The top one had a few blood spots on it. On the back, song lyrics were scrawled. Need more friends with wings, All the angels I know put concrete in my veins I'd always walk home alone, So I became lifeless just like my telephone There's nothing to lose When no one knows your name There's nothing to gain But the days don't seem to change Never played truth or dare, I'd have to check my mirror to see if I'm still here My parents had no clue, That I ate all my lunches alone in the bathroom There's nothing to lose When no one knows your name There's nothing to gain But the days don't seem to change There's nothing to lose My notebook will explain There's nothing to gain And I can't fight the pain Teacher said it's just a phase, When I grow up, my children will probably do the same Kids just love to tease, Who'd know it'd put me underground at 17 There's nothing to lose When no one knows your name There's nothing to gain But the days don't seem to change There's nothing to lose My notebook will explain There's nothing to gain And I just died today Evan could feel the tears running down his cheeks. He wiped them away and continued to go through the old pictures. At the very bottom was a picture of Dylan and Evan from just a few weeks ago with something written on the back. He turned it over. It was his hand writing. He vaugely remembered writing it, but how did Dylan get a hold of it? The family's landline rang, bringing Evan from his thoughts. He pocketed the two pictures and listened closely. He could make out Mrs. Thorne's voice, just barely. "Oh, hello Doctor Mephisto...". Evan didn't wait for any more information. He opened the window and climed down the vine crawler that was so conviently placed there and began to run full sprint to the hospital. Dylan was awake! His Dylan, his beautiful, evil angel Dylan! Evan burst through the doors of Hells' Pass, not slowing down for anything. He darted and swerved around patients an nurses and gurneys. He approached room 304. Dylan's room, and ran in. "Dyl!" Evan stopped short when he realized the room was empty. The same nurse whom had monitored Dylan came in. "I-I'm sorry sweetheart." She too had tears in her eyes. Chapter 9 Evan had sat through the visitation and funeral silently. Not acknowledging people's condolences or sympathetic words. He sat, just staring at his boyfriend's casket that sat open in front of the room. For the longest time, Evan had knelt there before the casket, holding Dylan's cold, lifeless hand. Then people began to arrive. He placed the picture of all of them in the casket and shrunk back to his seat with Dylan's family-his family. Mrs. Thorne put her arm around Evan and kissed his cheek, telling him that it would be okay. Now, two days after the funeral, Evan knelt before his boyfriend's grave, speaking to it. "Hey Dyl. I'm sorry I couldn't help you. Then again, I'm not sure you would have wanted it. But I've been thinking an awful lot about you, about us, what we could have been. It's all really conformist, but I'm willing to be a conformist if it means I get to be with you. Anyway, I doubt you feel the same. But I want you to know that I love you. My black heart will always belong to only you. You were always beautiful. My angel." Evan ended his soliloquy when he heard footsteps approaching. It was that damned French kid, Kyle Broflovski's boyfriend, the mercenary. (Boy had Marsh gotten his panties in a wad when he found out Kyle had gone to Mole.). He was carrying his shovel and a body, a body with an orange hood. Who would hire someone to kill McCormick? The kid would just come back the next day. Christophe saw Evan looking at him and shrugged. "'e was 'it in ze crossfiere. Of course, I 'ave to do my part, deespose of ze deceased...I must say, Marsh and my darling Kyeele, zeir leetle saying geets annoying." he was referring to the customary two liner that Stan and Kyle had always used when Kenny died. They uped it's usage when Kenny got mad that they didn't notice his deaths... Evan shrugged. "Whatever." Mole glanced at the grave he was kneeling in front of. "'e was your, 'ow do vous say, significant ozza? Evan nodded. "I see, well, I suppose I could, eh, pull a few strings, or razza, 'ave zem pulled, and breeng 'him back..?" Evan thought about it for a moment. How he' love to have Dylan back, but he'd done this himself. It was what he'd wanted. So Evan shook his head. Mole again shrugged and began to walk off with Kenny's body. "Wait, could you at least find out if he's okay, if he feel the same?..." Christophe nodded. " I will relay ze message." and went on about his business. Evan looked back at the tombstone and stood. He could see Henrietta and Shift waiting at the other end of the cemetary. (He'd promised to meet them for the first time in two weeks.). Evan began to walk away and remembered something. He took a folded picture out of his pocket, opened it and set it in front of the grave. "If I could just feel those lips one more time," he thought as he walked away he began to hum a song. Chapter 10 As Christophe walked back through the cemetary, he noticed something on the ground. He picked it up and saw that it was a picture. On the back was what appeared to be a poem, or song lyrics. Christophe read them and smiled. It was a good song. Even he had to admit that it was very fitting. He set the paper back down on the grave and walked away, singing quietly to himself; Hold it together, birds of a feather Nothing but lies and crooked wings I have the answer, spreading the cancer You are the faith inside me No, don't, Leave me to die here, help me survive here alone No, don't remember, remember Put me to sleep evil angel Open your wings evil angel I'm a believer, nothing could be worse All these imaginary friends Hiding betrayal, driving the nail Hoping to find a saviour No don't Leave me to die here, help me survive here No don't surrender, surrender Put me to sleep evil angel Open your wings evil angl Oh Fly over me evil angel Why can't I breathe evil angel Put me to sleep evil angel Open your wings evil angel Oh fly over me evil angel Why can't I breathe evil angel 


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